A Change of Pace
by nailbunny617
Summary: Crossover between XMen and BoP
1. Default Chapter

Title: A Change of Pace (BoP/X1 Xover) 1/?  
  
Author: nailbunny617  
  
Email: nailbunny617@hotmail.com  
  
Pairing: H/Jean Grey from the first movie just so I don't get bogged down in too much Xmen canon (I think, we'll see where it takes me)  
  
Rating: so far I'll just say PG-13 but I might get some nice girlsmut in there...  
  
Disclaimer: This is, of course, femslash which means -- if you didn't already know -- that there will be romantic/sexual situations between two women. If that's not cool with you for any number of reasons, go away quickly. And, I don't own these characters and am making absolutely no profit from this whatsoever.  
  
Author's Note: after the wonderful feedback I got, my ficbug bit me on the ass and I just sat down and pounded out a lot...and I've rewritten the first part because rainbow was right and when I thought about it, it bugged me so much I had to fix the XMen canon I screwed up...and then I continued the part 1. Any and all feedback is more than welcome!  
  
Have you ever been able to just look back on a week that you've had, or a month, or sometimes (on really crazy occasions) an hour and say 'that's changed me.' Well, I think I've had more of those in my life than I have any right to. More than I wanted. And if things keep going this way, I may just end up whimpering quietly in a corner somewhere for a couple years.  
  
To be perfectly honest, I have no idea just how I ended up in New Gotham. I mean, sure, there's an excuse and a reason, but I still don't quite get it. Charles, or Dr. Xavier to those who don't really know him, got a phone call from someone calling herself Oracle claiming she needed help. Specifically, help that came with certain psychic abilities. And since the rest of the X-Men, as we call ourselves, were mopping up the mess that came from Mystique's games with being a stand-in for Senator Kelly...well, Charles was too busy making sure a sensitive situation didn't get any worse.  
  
Which left me. My telepathy and kinetic abilities sky-rocketed so suddenly that even Scott had noticed it, so I jumped at any opportunity to use my powers. So, reaching telepathically through the phone, I spoke with Oracle, looking for any traces of malicious intentions. And since neither I or Charles believed her to have any way of hiding her true intentions, we were inclined to believe her and I was off on a commercial liner headed for Batman's old stomping grounds since the Blackbird was currently in use.  
  
I hate being in crowds. Lately it's become harder and harder to control my telepathy in groups, and there's nowhere to hide on a plane. Much as I tried to ignore it, my head started pounding and some of the electrical systems on the plane went wacky. So I did my best to distract myself, losing myself in the songs pumped at high volume through headphones.  
  
I feel rather guilty, actually, that I didn't let Scott and Storm fly me, but the jet was better off used chasing Mystique than being my personal escort. That and, though I didn't dare think this even around Charles, I jumped at this chance to be alone.  
  
The plane didn't crash, but I got a lot of thinking done. The kinds of thoughts I'm not supposed to have. I'm one of the original X-Men, a medical doctor, Scott Summers' girlfriend, and one of the supposedly more stable members of the mutant community. My life may be crazy, but I'm not content. Something is missing, and it has been for some time. I tried talking to Storm about it, but she just looked at me with her deep blue eyes and asked what was missing. If I knew, I'd have fixed it by now.  
  
So I've been looking ever since. Shutting Scott out the way I have been isn't fair, but he's kind of like sugar to me. In my drawers I have a multitude of sweets, just in case. I always fall back on sugar when I need comfort. Sugar is safe. Sugar will never disappoint me, but it also will never surprise me. It's familiar when maybe what I need is a little strangeness.  
  
All in all, a long-winded way of saying that I think I'm bored of living my life to everyone else's expectations. Always the good student, the good mutant, the good doctor, the good girlfriend, the good teacher but somewhere along the way I think I lost me.  
  
When I got off the plane, I saw a young looking girl holding a sign, looking very bored, with 'Jean Grey' upside down on it in scrawled letters. That is, she looked young until I saw her eyes. They flashed unguarded for just a moment and then I saw the attitude she would like to project to the rest of the world -- an uncaring, partying brat with a chip on her shoulder the size of Storm's wardrobe.  
  
Smirking and running a hand through my hair, I walked over to her. But before I could get anything out, she sighed loudly and asked, "So, you're the meta-chick who came running when Oracle called?"  
  
Having decided that the best course of action was to let her believe she fooled me into believing her act, I replied, "Damn, and here I am, forgetting my running shoes. Sorry, gotta go get them."  
  
"Okay, sorry, come with me." Laughing softly, she beckoned me to accompany her.  
  
"So you're not Oracle?" I didn't think so, but I had no other way of knowing.  
  
"No, but I'd have thought you had figured that out by now, being telepathic and all." Accompanying the remark was a sideways grin that had no humor in it at all. She didn't like or trust me one bit.  
  
I had a horrible urge to just delve into this woman's mind and rummage around to my heart's content. Usually such inclinations are easily ignored, but she fascinated me to a degree that I knew wasn't good. The last person I was so enthralled by was Logan, and that turned into a flirtation that almost lost me Scott. I don't know what it was, maybe the way her act and what I'd seen for a fraction of a second in her eyes were so wildly different. So I used every ounce of willpower I had to keep my shields up to avoid accidentally overhearing anything she might be unconsciously broadcasting.  
  
Sometimes morals suck.  
  
"You know, Oracle wouldn't have flown me out here if she didn't trust me."  
  
The woman stopped to look at me, tilting her head and narrowing her eyes. "Oracle's funny that way, she believes the best in everyone. Even when they don't deserve it."  
  
I got the feeling that Oracle was the good cop and this woman, whoever she was, got to fill the shoes of the bad cop. And that, on occasion, Oracle had to believe in a good that this woman didn't see in her own self. Too bad I already saw it. She was good at hiding it, but I was more used to looking for it than she was at covering it up. Something about the situation depressed me.  
  
We eventually made our way to the parking garage, where both our shoes squeaked bloody murder. What is it that the concrete made of to make it sound like you're in a movie car chase no matter just how slow you're driving? The bright Hummer that chirruped when the strangely feral woman pressed a button on her keychain gave me my first indication of just how great Oracle's resources really are.  
  
"Get in," she almost growled at me...and yet I found myself obeying without hesitation. Strange, usually I have good instincts about people, and all I wanted to do was sit down have a days-long conversation with this woman when all she'd done was treat me with disdain and a bad-ass attitude. I suddenly realized I had no idea what I'd really gotten myself into.  
  
And I liked that.  
  
Instead of thinking too much about my automatic reaction to the woman, I teased her some more. "Shouldn't you be putting a blindfold on me?"  
  
From the way she glared at me, her eyes focused on a distant point and head tilted in barely restrained annoyance, I realized that she must have had an earpiece in. And that this was an issue of contention between her and Oracle, who I surmised was on the other end. "I guess," dripping with sarcasm, she was obviously just summarizing what Oracle had told her, "since we know your real name, you can know ours. I'm Helena. And that also means you will be trusted since vengeance is easier with your full name if you turn on us. Besides, having met you, I've just gotta see why the hell Oracle thinks we need you."  
  
I had a feeling this was the most I was going to get out of her, and I didn't want to think about what she meant by vengeance. And I also didn't want to show her what I could do, so I just gave her my most mysterious smile and settled into the carseat -- making it obvious that she couldn't intimidate me no matter how hard she tried. "Nice to meet you, Helena."  
  
The name definitely fit. An exotic turn on a mediocre, boring name. Also one you didn't hear often, but damn...it just fit. Thought I didn't dare egg her on any further, I wanted to ask her what she could do. I had a feeling it was far more than I could imagine, since people usually don't carry themselves with such calm assurance unless they know they can handle any situation that arises.  
  
About ten minutes into the drive, her curiosity reluctantly piqued, she asked, "So you're a meta?"  
  
"Well, at the Xavier Institute we call ourselves mutants, but yes."  
  
She made a face at the road and replied, "I don't like the term mutant. It just seems somehow...wrong. Meta sounds to me like an improvement on the human race as it stands. Little tweaks that could prove good or bad."  
  
Ahh, a control freak. She seemed so used to being in control of everything, especially herself, that the idea of being called a freak or mutant unsettled her. I quietly said, "Mutant was originally a scientific term for the changes that appeared in certain people's genetic makeup -- it's society's opinion that makes it a bad thing."  
  
Clear sky blue eyes swung my way, the thoughts swirling fast and furious, and then turned back towards the road before I could catch my breath. "How old are you?" The question was openly curious, nothing there to imply offense was meant. I hate getting older, makes me feel useless when I see all the new students arrive looking younger each year.  
  
"Twenty-six."  
  
"You're pretty young to be a doctor already." So Oracle had done some checking on me...good. It would have been bad had she trusted me at face value -- like I'd trusted her. But I also had certain innate abilities to forecast any malignant intentions.  
  
"Yeah, I am." No explanation was warranted, not until I knew her better. Then I could delve into the fact that I'd started college courses still in high school, knowing that I wanted to make more of myself than the average human being. I guess being a mutant made me feel that I had to prove my worth and good intentions. "How old are you?"  
  
"Twenty-two," which was younger than I had first thought. There was something haunted in her, the same thing I see in every mutant/meta's eyes. Being hated for something we were born with and couldn't help in the least aged a person more than the majority of normal humans can possibly understand. But there was more than that in her soul. I had the dangerous urge to just take all her fears and pain away. Dangerous because I barely knew her and already I liked her more than I should.  
  
The rest of the ride went by in silence, with me staring out the window at a city that managed to look ominous even on a bright sunny day. Now that's brooding for you. We pulled up to the last thing I expected this invitingly dark woman to live in -- a clocktower. Then again, I mused, who am I to judge a person? When we were in the elevator, I could tell this place was more a fortress than an innocent apartment building. I also had the feeling that if I'd looked in any of the other apartments, there wouldn't be any tenants.  
  
When the door opened, my attention was immediately drawn to a huge bank of moniters and raw machine power. Both the machine and the woman in the strange looking wheelchair, that is. She turned and directed her chair over to us, smiling openly. Hand extended in greeting, the redhead welcomed me with, "It's great to finally meet you. I'm Oracle, but since you're already here, my name is Barbara." Her red hair, pale skin, and overwhelming beauty was definitely not the face I'd imagined for someone who called herself Oracle.  
  
"It's nice to meet you, too."  
  
"The flight wasn't too bad, was it?" Said with true concern in her emerald green eyes, I found myself liking her immensely. "I heard planes are pretty awful for telepaths."  
  
With a budding respect for the woman's intelligence and thoughtfulness, I replied, "It wasn't a picnic, but I managed just fine, thanks."  
  
At that exact moment, a blonde teenager came flying down the stairs, chattering in only the way the innocently young can, "Oh my god, she's here and no one told me?! Come on, guys, I'm part of the team now, you gotta keep me informed! So who's going to introduce me? Okay, I'm Dinah, it's nice to meet you. Jean, right?" It was said in the span of one breath and about fifteen seconds. I was impressed by her sheer lung capacity, which is saying a lot since I teach junior and senior high school kids. She finished with her hand offered in greeting, standing directly in front of me. All I could think about was how deceptive her appearances were because she was actually quite tall, but didn't really look like it.  
  
I went to shake her hand, but as soon as our skin touched, the world went black. 


	2. Chapter 2

Title: A Change of Pace (BoP/X1 Xover) 2/?  
  
Author: nailbunny617  
  
Email: nailbunny617@hotmail.com  
  
Pairing: H/Jean Grey from the first movie just so I don't get bogged down in too much Xmen canon (I think, we'll see where it takes me)  
  
Rating: so far I'll just say PG-13 but I might get some nice girlsmut in there...  
  
Disclaimer: This is, of course, femslash which means -- if you didn't already know -- that there will be romantic/sexual situations between two women. If that's not cool with you for any number of reasons, go away quickly. And, I don't own these characters and am making absolutely no profit from this whatsoever. Please don't sue me, you won't get anything valuable from me anyway.  
  
Author's Note: Thank you all SO much for the positive feedback, and for not coddling me and telling me like it is. Real life kicked me in the teeth, otherwise I'd have gotten this out sooner. Hopefully things will relent soon...I'll get this story out as I get it done. Any and all feedback is welcome, and I even have a fire extinguisher if you feel that I need it!  
  
* * * * * *  
  
I don't really know how long I was out, though I've been reassured it wasn't more than a couple minutes. All I really remember is hearing a half-hearted argument.  
  
"Well going into the kitchen and getting those damn poptarts isn't helping." Which was said in the most teacherly tone known to man.  
  
So I wasn't terribly surprised to hear in an equally condescending and know-it-all tone, "And sitting here staring at them is helping how...?" I could almost see Helena gesturing questioningly with a sweep of an arm directed my way. From the strained silence, I gathered that Barbara didn't really have any valid reasons, it just felt better to be focusing on something other than her helplessness. Helena continued, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather wait them out than try to do any tests. I mean, it was touching that got them in trouble in the first place, who knows what really set them off. I didn't even want to move them, remember?"  
  
And I could swear I heard the wheels grinding in Oracle's head, because she sounded far away. "No, I think it was just some reaction between a powerful telepath and a relatively uncontrolled touch telepath. Maybe they're like magnets, they repel each other if they're too close."  
  
Right on cue, I groaned, "Why didn't anyone warn me?"  
  
Sounding abashed, Barbara replied, "I'm sorry, my research into telepathy never said anything about a possible reaction between touch telepaths and...well...regular ones."  
  
Opening my eyes but not yet willing to risk moving, I was saved from further expressing my annoyance -- let's face it, how on earth could even the great Oracle have really predicted this -- when Dinah let out a soft curse. We both sat up gingerly at the same time, eyeing each other warily from a safe distance between the couch I was on and the loveseat she was on. I remember thinking, however completely unrelated, that she should have had the couch because she is a couple inches taller than me. I'm more Helena's height.  
  
Helena. I don't know why she intrigued me so deeply. I really don't. It wasn't her exotic beauty, although that was distracting enough on its own, or the way she treated everyone with the same amount of disdain...it was something much more indefinable than that. Even with my shields at their highest, I could feel the strength of her character swirling around in her mind.   
  
It was amazing.   
  
It was intoxicating.   
  
It was scary as hell.  
  
"Not to sound impatient, but is that mu-- uh, meta still on the loose?"  
  
The look of embarrassment and concern on the redhead's face vanished almost immediately, replaced by an impenetrable mask of professionalism. This was a woman used to setting aside herself for the job. While it was impressive as hell, it was also depressing that she was so good at it. No one should have to learn that. These two were textbook cases of people who were used to carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.  
  
Takes one to know one.  
  
A couple times Kitty, or Shadowcat, tried to convince me to "find the fun." Only when I repeated the phrase to some other students of mine, they giggled and mumbled something about Buffy the Vampire Slayer before running away from my confused look. I suppose teenagers just can't grasp the concept that sometimes teachers can pull off an impressive pop culture reference. We're just not cool enough, I guess.  
  
I wanted to help Helena find her fun.  
  
But those were bad thoughts, ones better suited to late night, steamy dreams. The kind of dreams that make you blush in the middle of a very serious conversation. The kind that make you forget that you're in a clocktower being watched by other people who answer to codenames like 'Oracle' and whatever Helena went by.  
  
"I'm sorry, could you start over again?" I flushed slightly pink at the realization that certain thoughts had completely taken over my mental facilities, making conversation a one-sided affair for the redhead. Sometimes I'm perversely grateful I'm a telepath, therefore more adept at hiding my more...controversial thoughts.  
  
A slightly confused and annoyed expression came over Barbara's face, quickly to be replaced by the professional calm. In fact, I may not have seen anything at all but forged minute differences in my mind from her general mood. Shields from hearing a person's thoughts are one thing; completely cutting off all psychic contact is another. And it's damn near impossible. In any case, I doubt even those closest to her could tell the change in mood.  
  
Which brought my mind back to the dilemma that persuaded Oracle to seek out my help, albeit indirectly.  
  
A Picasso on loan from Le Louvre for two months had walked out on the exhibit's opening day, even though no one was certain exactly when it disappeared during the day -- just that around three in the afternoon the painting looked hazy for about fifteen minutes and then completely disappeared.  
  
A brand new top of the line, top secret computer chip, had disappeared from a high-tech computing company's R&D lab during its final testing.  
  
A senator's child, not yet out of grade school, had been viciously garroted where he stood behind his father on a public speaking podium while his dad spoke out against any and all anti-abortion laws.  
  
The only solution anyone had been able to come up with was that there was a mutant who could project images of what he or she wanted other people to see. While it's a pretty neat trick, this mutant had used his/her abilities to not only steal precious items but had also carried out gruesome public assassinations for hire. Because of the mutant's ability to trick the human mind, most of the crimes were carried out in broad daylight with a large crowd, making any video surveillance a moot point. What images had been caught seemed to have been distorted by the psychic images, although even Oracle was stumped as to how that happened. I suppose I don't need to explain that the authorities were at a complete loss, relying solely on what little they knew about metas/mutants to try and figure out just how the crimes were committed. The resulting public backlash against the meta community, both in New Gotham and worldwide, was horrendous. Mobs executed humans and mutants alike, not caring about the human bloodshed they caused.  
  
These were desperate times. Oracle hoped that once the actual threat was neutralized, that things could calm down once again. A part of me resented the fact that one person could create such a lynch mob. A part of me resented the fact that I was human, yet considered barely a member of the species. A part of me began to think that maybe humanity was nothing more than a bunch of snarling animals covered by a thin veneer of manners and politeness.  
  
Who am I kidding, it was a really big part of me. It still is. But that doesn't mean I'm for the extermination or enslavement of my not-so-genetically-gifted brethren like Magneto wants. That plastic prison of the government's isn't going to hold him -- I don't know how they deluded themselves into believing it might. He'll get out and make another bid at starting a war between humans and mutants. And I'll be part of the team trying to stop just that. A small, but growing, voice in my head is asking why bother protecting people who just as soon kill me as look at me? It just doesn't seem worth it anymore.  
  
But that's not a thought I will ever allow anywhere near Charles' mind. Ever.  
  
Oracle, Charles and I all agreed that there was a high probability that a non-touch-reliant telepath powerful enough would be able to see through any of the images, or at the very least detect their existence. After the fourth mob-related mutant execution, Oracle decided to step it up and get me to New Gotham. Can't say I disagreed.  
  
So there I was. I'd taken the assignment so willingly, but faced by the daunting task, I was scared. I think if my life were a movie, which sometimes I think it would be too much fodder for the big screen, I'd really love to plan out my soundtrack. Right at that moment I think I'd have had some Godspeed You Black Emperor.  
  
I really think I have ADD sometimes.  
  
But my wandering thoughts and Barbara's ongoing speech, which I'd spaced out on again, were interrupted when Dinah grumbled and stood up unsteadily. "Why do I always have to be the one that goes all unconsciousy? It's not fair."  
  
Laughing, Helena playfully mussed Dinah's hair, to which she squealed and pleaded with the brunette to stop. Barbara was laughing but valiantly trying to hide it from her young friends. I couldn't help a smile myself, and I wondered how often it was that these women got to laugh like that. And when the last time I ever smiled like that had been.  
  
I couldn't remember.  
  
Noting my serious mood, Barbara misinterpreted it and shushed both Helena and Dinah, believing I was anxious to get down to business.  
  
Which was how I found myself with an earpiece, standing on the balcony with a disbelieving Helena staring at me. "Me? I know how I'm gonna get down there, but how are you?" she questioned.  
  
I sauntered over to the ledge with a little half-smile, not nearly as sure of my newfound ability as I'd have liked to be, but not willing to back down in front of the exotic woman. "Aren't you ever gonna stop talking? Come on." And with that, I lazily stepped off the edge. From the way she dashed to the ledge, eyes wide and breathing a little harder, I could tell I'd done exactly what I'd intended to do -- surprised the hell out of her. I was floating about ten feet down, openly grinning at her panicked expression.  
  
It was actually an accident that I found out I could levitate myself. Fly in a way, really. Rogue and I had been training in one of the top floor rooms of the mansion, forced to work on our hand-to-hand combat skills by a grumpy Logan. We had been trading blows fairly equally, which was a little embarrassing considering I was supposed to be the senior member, when Rogue surprised me and threw me over her shoulder...and right out the window. Logan had rushed to the broken glass, ready to leap out and try to catch me, only to jump halfway back across the room in surprise when I reappeared in the window under my own power.  
  
Not all that different from levitating a book. And the more I practice at it, the better I become. One really neat trick, if you ask me. I'm better at controlling my 'flight' than even Storm is with her wind powers.  
  
When I finally found Scott, I was flushed with excitement and almost babbling. It's not as though I believed I wasn't a valuable X-Man before, but come on -- I could fly. Who wouldn't be thrilled? And in the two seconds it took Scott to regain his composure after my ecstatic news, he wasn't happy for me. In fact, I felt resentment, envy, fear, and anger. All the emotions a loving boyfriend isn't supposed to feel. Crazy old me, I thought love was supposed to be selfless and there was Scott, worried that I was going to take over his leadership role in our little band of mutants. I never let him know that he didn't hide it quickly enough. In fact, for a very long time I convinced myself I was being paranoid, that the smile he cracked after those two seconds was as genuine as our love.  
  
Who was I kidding? I'd known Helena for all of a few hours, and already she was more impressed by my flying than Scott had been in months.  
  
But she recovered quickly, erasing her expression of concern with that same old annoyed attitude she loves to exude, and said, "Last thing we need is a little red blob at our front door because you wouldn't take the stairs. Warn me next time you pull something like that, okay?"  
  
Smirking, loving every second that I'd made her nervous, I responded, "Yeah, okay Helena."  
  
Right before she jumped, she said, "Out here on comms I'm Huntress. And by the way that was pretty cool."  
  
Then, before I could really feel my smile, she was off, racing across rooftops gracefully and I was hard pressed just to keep up. Gotta get faster at this, I remembered thinking.  
  
Oh I got faster, alright.  
  
* * * * *  
  
TBC 


End file.
